(1939-09-06) Talent Search
Details for Talent Search
Summary: Duncan and Bobbie travel to Hogsmeade and meet up with Jenny during a Hogsmeade Weekend.
Date: September 6, 1939
Location: Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade

Right pisser was what it was, trying to sort ones days out proper just to play. And Jenny knew that she was going to play. She'd been set on a career in Quidditch for…well, for ages and now teams beyond her mother's though she'd always be an Appleby fan, were starting to take notice. Know what Jenny noticed? That it felt damn good to sleep in. And it'd have felt a lot better sleeping in at home, curled next to Duncan holding last nights empty bottle of wine than say…sharing a room with a bunch of twits who were more interested in what the Magijugend was doing and Flint than things that really mattered. Like how to get booze in and deal with Saturday nights being free.
So right as fucking rain she was, a pair of slacks that fit like sin and a bubbling mug of something that could fix what ailed if what ailed was sobriety cradled between her fingers. Long blond hair flirted on the breeze while she she leaned against the front of the pub and waited on Potter to show.

Right nostalgic it was walking up that little street in Hogsmeade. To the three broomsticks front door. The little jingle of the doorbell as he pushed it open for the first time since some months ago. Since the apple to his arrow (pun?) was sitting atop the head of this place. Metaphorically that is.
And there she was. Looking good as ever. "Well, you look like the cat that caught the canary. Should I be worried about some sort of terrible surprise inside waiting for me?" He smiles and approaches her, smiling like some git that just won free drinks for life.

Bobbie is a little behind Duncan, and at his words, she peers around him slightly to get a look at Jenny, though she only nods once in greeting before looking around. She starts removing her traveling robe and drapes it over her arm while studying the once familiar pub and its surroundings.

"Tell me again why I thought coming back to this place was a good idea?" With the mudbloods on pithy food detail, it was little wonder that town was crawling with those who could leave the castle doing exactly that. Regardless, one of those hands untangled from her drink enough to settle against the front of Duncan's chest and the tall seeker rose up on tiptoe, ghosting her lips over his cheek. "Because I'm starting to think it'd have felt better to stay at home. Bless, but just seeing you is making me feel better though."
The on again off again relationship that kept well off her mother's radar. But speaking of Mums, "Tell me she's sent scones? She had to send scones by you," Jenny demanded. After all, one couldn't just live with a bloke and not have the woman hear about it, not when she was his coach as well as her mum. "She knew you were coming up right? Oh hey Yaxley, what's up?" To say Jenny didn't judge…would be a lie. She totally did. She also just knew when to keep her mouth shut. Blood status hadn't yet been linked to quidditch.

"Because I thought of it. That's all you ever need for a good idea." He was certainly laying the sarcasm on thick today. The peck to his cheek gets the response of his hand to the side of her face, thumb sliding across her cheek for but a moment before it leaves her face at the mention of scones.
One does not simply decline that woman telling you to deliver scones if you're going to be somewhere Jenny can get to without being expelled.
"You'd think you were her daughter or something, the way you two talk about scones so bloody much." Hand dissappears into his slung satchel to produce a brown paper bag. It crinkles a bit as he pulls it out of that bottomless satchel and hands it to Jenny. "Here. Delivered, as requested… more demanded with threats of bodily harm if I didn't. But hey, why not, right?"
Duncan's thoughts on blood status were: If you can play and give me a challenge or help the team win, why should I care where you came from?

"At least this way I'll still get to play. I've woke up twice this week with nightmares already, just thinking about them calling off the main season because of those..whatsits, the muggles have flying? And the things from the air? I just keep dreaming one will drift over the pitch and while yes, yes we'll mourn the loss of France's team…," the girl trailed off, eyes twinkling. It was entirely much more fun to nuzzle in against the shape of his hand. Teeth nipping playfully towards the tip of his thumb.
"My hero. Is he not a hero?" She teased, flashing a grin in Bobbie's direction, before nudging the door open with her boot to let the pair inside. Scones? What scones, Jenny aint got no scones, nevermind she's kind of just…hugging the bag in against her chest and rummaging. "Come get a drink, I suspect it'll be over run with students later, but in the meantime…"
In the meantime she could torment Potter just a little more, couldn't she?

Bobbie gives the pair a long look, but for once, she keeps her thoughts to herself as she moves past them into the pub just long enough to call out, "Oi! Whisky! Thanks, love!" Order placed and cloak tossed inside, she returns to give Jenny and Duncan another look. "Heard we'll have all sorts of other charms 'n' the like," she says, regarding said flying machines, her Liverpool accent not quite as strong as it is when she's in her cups. "Not callin' off Quidditch at Hogwarts, then?"

Duncan accepts the offer to come in, and follows Bobbie in before turning adeptly to snag the door with a single hand and shove it open for Jenny to follow. "Ah, yes, the hero of damsels in the stands, keeper of the London Fans' hearts. And of course, beater extraordinaire." He shakes his head, just imagining the thought of them naming him most valuable player.. ever.
"Keep!" He looks at the bartender, "Good sir, two fingers of scotch, and keep them coming every half hour until I start stumbling. Then bring them every twenty minutes!"
With a wry grin at Genevieve, "Yeah, let's get some drinks down before all the other brats get here."

Pathetic was a good word. But then, they'd spent the entire summer doing this exact same thing. Tangled up in an adorable mess of limbs and whiskey and the kind of arrogance that quidditch players of any skill tend to possess. Adorable also fit. "S'what they say," Jenny agreed; those long legs carrying her inside tucked comfortably against the beaters frame; it was nice of him to get the door. The drink was helping. It was making it worth it to be up and alive this bloody early in the morning.
"Dun really care much one way or another, which…is terrible, I know but if the season goes down then it'll cause a fuss amongst our community and iffen it don't well…everyone'll be occupied." A shrug, before she turned her mind to Bobbie's question. "It's still on. They've called off half the classes for the mudbloods but no one's tried to mess with quidditch. Suppose that's because they know where the lines are." God, it's too early in the day for such talk.
Talk of stumbling though, simply left the girl's head tossed back as she laughed, "Oh gods, but do you recall that party…who threw it. One of those girls that Georges' was dating, when we went over to the ski lodge and there were those drinks, the ones that made you breath actual fire and..," it was hard not to laugh at the memory; her grin was sideways. "You and what was his name! I remember! The pair of you kept trying to write your names in the snow…"

"Good," is about all Bobbie's going to say on that score, though her tone is darkly definitive. She thanks the server for her requested drink, then gives the Potter-Solomon twist another side glance before tossing back the firewhisky and immediately holding out her glass for a refill. Only when that's done does she start looking for decent seating. "Any good flyers in your year?" she asks, butting in, like she does. "Other'n your lovely self, o'course."

Oh, great, "What's in that mug of yours, Solomon? And I don't remember his name. Nor do I remember him writing his name in the snow. At least much past the first letter before he fell out from the whiskey!" And he erupts in that telltale laughter of his that noted stories were now being told. "And didn't you end up with someone else's -absurd- hat after that and you hid in the bathroom for.. oh it must have been an hour!" Five minutes, but who's counting?
Bobbie gets a look, "She eclipses most of em, honestly." Most? Walk the thin wire, Potter, why don't you?

"Was just thinkin' it was hilarious, you two swaggerin' about in the snow tryin' to write yer name like some great bunch of dragons," Jenny teased, cradling her mug a little bit closer so that she could peer down at its depths. "House special," she confided Duncan's way with a grin, "Favorite treat of my dear charming, s'os his name. The cheeky one." Who worked there. Instead, she ruffled Potter's hair when he laughed and found herself a seat on the man's lap, long legs crossing at the thigh.
"Black's a nice bit of lift to his tail but…I haven't paid much attention beyond it. An this one bloke, a Gryffi. Higgin's. I'm fairly sure he could give me a run for my money and then some but don't tell him I said so, yeah?" Wink. All talk of hiding in the bathroom she was completely ignoring.

With a quick, squint-eyed look at Duncan, it seems Bobbie might actually have caught that thin wire, though she does nothing to help him off it. As Jenny seems okay with it, though, so much Bobbie. She tosses back her second whisky and sets the glass down rather loudly before catching up her cloak. "Well, good ta hear. Maybe see some of 'em at tryouts next season. An' speaking of a bathroom…" She hitches a thumb back toward the pub's washrooms, indicating she's going to go visit one herself. She sets some coins on the bar's counter on the way over, then disappears from sight.

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